


How about we don't do that again?

by notmadderred



Category: Ant-Man (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Epic Bromance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Guilt, Kissing, M/M, Paralysis, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Russians Are Weird, Scott Is Also a Fucking Asshole But in a Good Way, Scott Lang is a Good Bro, Self-Discovery, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 02:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16945545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred
Summary: A battered sigh slipped through his lips as he stared up into the midnight sky, head pounding and eyes blinded by the glare of the light just above him."The hell?" A voice seeped through the soundless drumming within his ears. "I thought dropping out of the sky was my thing."





	How about we don't do that again?

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so I wrote this forever ago (right after Ant-Man 1 was released) and never properly finished so I tied it up real quick and sent that shit right here enjoy

"Since when did we start gettin' involved in this kinda' shit, man? I didn't sign up for this."

"Bro, you didn't sign up for anything." Luis slammed his palm against Dave's back, causing the latter to shoot a withering glare to the oblivious man. "Remember? It was more like—"

"Can you just shut up and let me think? You talk so much that the voice inside my head is YOURS." Scott sat in the brittle wooden chair stationed adjacent to the small, round kitchen table. Dave and Luis were standing next to each other in front of him; Luis with a slaphappy grin on his face and Dave motionless beside him with his arms crossed. Kurt sat in a different wooden chair just far away enough from the three others to be considered as more of an observer than a person supposed to actually be involved in the situation.

"Look, Scott. It's not like I don't wanna help, 'cause I do. It's more like I don't wanna go to jail. Y'know where I'm comin' from, right?" Dave shrugged his shoulders. 

"Nobody's going to jail," Scott rebuked, pulling his hands from his hair and lifting his head up to look at the men in front of him. "We're supposed to be the good guys, remember? We make the world a better place. We do what the police can't."

Dave sighed and let his arms fall loosely to his sides. "Just because you're wanted by the Avengers now doesn't mean you have to save every cat from every tree."

"Hey, no. Don't you start pulling that card. That was _one time_. And I did that all by myself without the suit."

"Oh, great! What would we do without you, Helpful Normal Citizen?"

"Guys, guys," Luis began, stepping between Dave and Scott, who had finally stood up at that last comment. "We're a team. That means no fighting."

"Yeah," Scott said, glaring past Luis. "So, are you guys in or out on this one?"

"I'm all in, bro," said Luis, pleasantly unaware of the mild tension still hanging in the air.

"Me too."

Scott jumped and whirled around to see Kurt still sitting down at the table, cup of coffee in hand and ever-present laptop resting closed in front of him. The question had been aimed at Dave, and he'd forgotten about the Russian hacker's presence. 

Dave bit down on his lower lip and his narrowed eyes were glowering at Kurt in a way that said, 'traitor.' "Fine. Yeah, I'm in. What's the plan?"

 

The story was simple.

The girl's name was Harper Monte. She was nine years old. Her parents were Alexandria and Kevin Monte. Three weeks ago, Harper's parents hired a babysitter when they got a call in regard to the sudden death of Kevin's mother and found out the funeral was going to be held in Spain, the country she had been living in at the time.

The hire had been quick and based on a short meeting. But everything seemed to fall smoothly into place: Joy, the babysitter, seemed prepared for everything. She clicked with Harper. Even with Harper's unpredictable attitude, Joy seemed ready to take care of her.

They left a week later, entrusting Harper in Joy's care. 

They returned four days after that, only to find an empty house.

A video was the only object left behind. It revealed an ugly truth that left two parents sobbing and questioning themselves. What if this? What if that? But it was too late. "Joy" had apparently kidnapped the child. The video said as much. She had tied Harper to a chair and left her in a barren room. Alexandria and Kevin were forced to watch as their child stuttered upon reading a message written upon the opposite wall demanding a ransom of one million dollars. A ridiculous amount, especially for a barely-middle-class family that had just recently spent a large sum of their money in order to go to a funeral. The police were not to get involved. If they did...

Well. They left the child to answer that with a blotchy face painted with tears. "They'll...they'll kill me."

A nine-year-old girl forced to sign her own death warrant.

Her parents had tried to find out more and more about Joy without help from the police, but their options had been limited. There were no records that this "Joy" character ever existed.

But they were lucky to know the girlfriend of a friend who knew the cousin of a guy that had once met the friend of a girl who knew one of Luis' cousins pretty well. The message of the desperate couple was passed down Luis' chain of relations to the man himself, who in turn relayed the message to Scott, which was then translated by Kurt.

Scott was all in the moment he heard about Harper. He couldn't but think, "What if this were Cassie?" 

Dave and Scott, however, had been butting heads at the time. Normally everything ran smoothly among the hodgepodge group of former jailbirds, but Scott had been having a bit of trouble with Maggie and Paxton, which in turn meant less time with Cassie. Then Dave had flirted with Hope, albeit jokingly, and everything went downhill from there.

Scott probably would have tackled Dave to the floor and then proceed to beat him if Luis hadn't interfered.

Ever since then, Scott had done his very best to annoy Dave in a passive way. Stepping on the back of his heels. Drinking the last of his beer. Insulting the bands he liked. He could tell that Dave was close to exploding but didn't really plan on stopping.

Luis would try to make Scott stop with a consistent chatter reminding him that if Dave ended up killing him, Cassie would be unhappy. And Antony would have died for nothing. Low blows, but Scott was confident that Dave wouldn't kill him. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Scott, Kurt was trying to talk Dave out of retaliating. Dave was starting to get bent on revenge, and that could only lead to future problems where people got hurt.

But then they got the case, and Dave didn't want to get involved. "Because I don't wanna go to jail," he said. "Because I don't want to get in a fight with Scott while I'm there and ruin everything," he had been thinking. And yet, he found himself right in the thick of things.

 

"We have the tape," Scott said, pointing to the object, which was resting on the kitchen table. "I've already watched it to see if I saw anything that stood out." He shrugged. "I didn't."

"Of course not," muttered Dave. Scott ignored him.

"But Harper was obviously in some sort of old warehouse, and it had electricity. That sort of limits the places she could be, right?"

"Barely," said Dave.

Kurt nodded. "That could help."

Scott picked up the tape and began rotating it in his hands. "It also has the time and place where they want Harper's parents to drop off the money. So that leaves us with a couple options. Either we can intercept at the time of the meeting, or we can find out where Joy's holding Harper and try to rescue her before the meeting ever happens. What do you guys think?"

Luis tilted his head. "I'm cool with whatever you guys want to do. Gotta be ready for everything, am I right?"

Kurt glanced over at Dave, who didn't seem to plan on answering the question anytime soon. "We find girl first. Get her out before captors expect anything. Then we have element of surprise, yes?"

"That's what I was thinking. Do you think you'd be able to try and find out where any of those warehouses are? It'd probably be within a fifteen mile radius of the place where the money's supposed to be dropped off."

Kurt nodded and opened his laptop.

"Good. Luis and I will check any warehouses to the north or east of the pick-up spot. You and Dave will be checking any around the south and west."

"Who the hell died and made you boss?" Dave asked with a punch of venom in his tone.

Scott glared. "Well, then what do you suggest—"

Kurt cleared his throat. Both men turned their hard stares his way, and he quickly turned back down to his computer. "I, euh..." He tapped another key on the keyboard, "know where warehouses are."

"Cool, man," Luis intoned. He smiled and smacked his palms together. "Can you print out directions or something?"

 

"This is dumb," said Luis. "The place looks more like an old animal shelter than a warehouse. I think Kurt screwed up this time."

Scott stopped in his path suddenly, causing Luis, who was following only inches behind, to crash into him and nearly take the two of them out. "Whoa! Warn me next time you take a pit stop, Fido."

He was quickly silenced as Scott put a finger to his lips and motioned for him to look through the window. Luis lifted his eyebrows in an obvious question before stalking over to the edge of the house. He crouched beneath the sill before lifting his head to peek through.

A high-pitched scream battered his eardrums before the glass splintered and shattered, littering the floor in the clear substance. Luis threw his body to the left and rolled away to avoid as much injury as he could. Scott jumped backwards and yelled, dropping the helmet he'd brought along as a precaution. A cat had flown out the window, charring its fur with shrapnel, and proceeded to continue its conquest straight to Scott. It had jumped at him and slammed into his chest, hissing and screeching as it went, before continuing its path into the building across the street. 

Which, ahem, was a warehouse.

Luis and Scott watched the small animal scamper off before Scott broke the silence. "We never speak of this again."

Luis swallowed and nodded. "Agreed."

 

It was the third warehouse Dave and Kurt were checking out, and Dave couldn't help but be a little annoyed. 

"I mean, c'mon man. Are we really just gonna completely trust Scott that she's being held in a warehouse? None of the ones we've seen have shown any sign of life."

The wind combed through Kurt's hair as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and shot a sideways glower at Dave. "You can't deny it makes sense. Don't cloud your judgments because you're angry at him."

Dave snorted. "That's not it. I mean that the whole setup is too obvious. An abandoned warehouse with... shit. You didn't happen to narrow down the warehouse selection to the ones with electricity like he asked, did you?"

Kurt opened his mouth to respond, and then quickly shut it again. He shook his head.

It was dark out, but the heavy rise and fall of Dave's chest as he took a deep breath was easily illuminated through the outline of light provided by the reflection of the moon. He bit into his cheek then approached the warehouse with far less caution than the two previous, shoving open the door without bothering to check the handle before stepping inside and glancing around. Kurt muttered a string of curses under his breath as he quickly stalked after, but Dave wasn't able to understand a single one of them.

"A bit more vocal than usual, huh, Kurt. Your Russian isn't too—"

He was cut short as a solid kick was delivered to his shin. Just as he was about to yell in pain, Kurt's hand closed over his mouth. "Idiot," he whispered forcefully into his ear. "Less yelling. More caution. Don't be so damn _stupid_. This could be where girl is being held, for all we know."

Dave glared and pulled off Kurt's hand before pressing both hands against his chest to shove him a step backward. "I don't know how you did things before, but in America, we don't kick people as a way to tell them to shut up. That hurts like hell, dumbass. If you do it again I'll—fuck."

Kurt's eyes widened, and a rosy pallor filled his cheeks. "What?"

"We need to go." Dave flinched as he heard the squeal of rusted metal sliding against more metal. "Now."

His leg moved slightly awkwardly as he turned to leave at a limping run, trying to outpace whoever it was that was in the warehouse to the door. Kurt muttered a quick, "Sorry," as he ran outside with Dave and shut the door, leaving himself and Dave cut off from that person temporarily.

"Car's this way." Dave continued his stiff run in that direction, only pausing once to say, "Looks like Scott could be right this time."

 

Scott rubbed his hands down the side of his face and sighed. "So all six of our warehouses were fails."

His foot was tapping impatiently on the floor as he waited for Dave and Kurt to show up. Luis was in a similar state of mind, humming to himself as he tightly gripped the controller of his game console.

"So, what? Do we just sit here and wait for them?"

Luis shrugged, eyes still glued to the TV screen. "I dunno. Should we think of something to talk to them about?"

Scott groaned. "What's there to talk about?" He continued speaking in a mocking voice. "Yeah, we found nothing! Just a rogue cat at some pet store and—"

"Dude," Luis interrupted, pausing the game to look at his friend. "We swore never to talk about that."

"Talk about what?"

Both men jumped up at the sound of Dave's voice. "Hey, man! Naw, it was nothing! Don't worry!" Luis ceased talking momentarily. "What happened to your leg?"

Dave looked down to examine the welt forming on his shin. "Yeah, I may need some ice for that." He turned his gaze back up to Luis' puzzled face. "Don't anger the Russian."

He stalked to the kitchen, roughly hitting Scott's shoulder with his own while he passed, as Luis nodded knowingly.

"Oh yeah," they heard Dave say from the kitchen. He was barely audible above the sounds of different items being shoved around within the freezer, "we think we found out where Harper's bein' held."

Scott's ears practically perked at that. "Yeah! Where?"

The door opened once more as Kurt stepped inside, who was frowning as he looked at something on his computer, only to glance up to peer at the faces that had turned to him.

"What?" he asked.

"Man, what else? Harper! Where's she being held? Tell us!" Luis' eyes were alight with a fire that had not been present only moments earlier. 

Dave rolled his eyes. "We aren't even sure if she is there. It's just one o' the old warehouses with electricity and we heard a person walking around inside. Could end up bein' nothin' at all."

Scott rolled his shoulders. "Yes, and thank you for your extremely beneficial and positive vote of confidence. Now shut your mouth for a second and let him talk. Where's the warehouse?"

 

The four men were situated in a "very discreet" black van just outside the warehouse. Further research had proven that yes, the building does have electricity, and yes, that electricity had been used recently. 

In case this specific warehouse ended up being the correct one, they had formulated a plan. Said plan was suspiciously similar to the one they had used to attempt to break into Hank Pym's house.

Kurt approved of the plan. It was simple with an uncountable multitude of ways to go straight downhill fast, but those situations were kind of fun for him. He decided not to voice that opinion. Dave would probably make some annoying stereotype joke that he knew Kurt wouldn't completely understand.

"So, everyone go through their roles one more time," said Scott. He was sitting in the passenger seat of the car adorning his Ant-Man suit. The helmet was clutched between his hands even as he glanced to the back of the car in order to get a better look at Dave and Kurt.

"Well," thought Kurt. "More specifically just Dave."

Dave rolled his eyes. "I cover for techy-boy over here. If things start to go bad, I'll let you know."

"I get up to power lines to cut off warehouse electricity and try to guide you through building to hopefully find girl."

"And I'll be right with you inside the building. Now c'mon! Let's get a move on!" Luis voiced enthusiastically.

Scott nodded. "Alright then. Let's go."

Scott pushed open the car door before stepping foot outside. He nodded to Luis before pulling his helmet over his head. Kurt then lost visual on his friend as he shrunk down. Luis stepped outside the other door.

"Where are you, man? I don't wanna be stepping on you."

"Down here," came Scott's voice through the earpiece. "And well out of your way. That was just a test; I think it be better to start out full-size. You ready back there?"

Dave scoffed. "Course we are. Now get a move on."

"Watch it, Dave."

"Kurt, what the fuck? I thought you were on my side."

"Let's just get this over with. I'll go in first, Luis."

Kurt decided that was his cue to leave the van as well, followed quickly in step by Dave as he rounded his way toward a telephone pole, laptop in hand. He tilted his head as he gazed up to the active power lines. "We forgot ladder and harness, didn't we?"

"We _what_?" he heard Luis yell through the earpiece. A shushing from Scott came immediately after. "Sorry," said Luis, then continued in a loud whisper, "we _what_?"

"No problem," Kurt responded. "I can climb. Dave, can you put laptop in my backpack?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea? That's gotta be what? Thirty, forty feet?" Dave asked as he stuffed the object in his friend's bag.

"Hmm... Yes, something like that." With that statement, he wrapped his arms to begin his way up the telephone pole.

"Shit, Kurt. I didn't know you were Spider-man. That's actually... wow. Okay. All good so far out here, Luis. How're you all in there?"

"Shut up!" came the whispered yell. "Someone's here. Ant-man's on the down low. As in he's the size—"

"Yeah, yeah; I know. He's ant size. How's the power in there?" 

"Y'know how I just told you to shut up?"

An annoyed sigh slipped through Dave's mouth. "Just gimme a quick update, for God's sake."

"Alright, man. Chill. Uhhhh... Kurt hasn't knocked out the building's power out yet, has h—oh, never mind. We're in the dark now. You have directions?"

"I think Kurt's workin' on it right now."

"You do realize I can speak for myself, yes?"

"Is everything working up there then, Kurt?

"It is... difficult, but I believe I can get directions for you in moment. Is anybody else in building?"

"I just heard something," said Scott. "On the left in the hallway. I'm gonna check it out."

There was a soft clicking sound as Scott supposedly shrunk. For a moment, only the sound of Luis humming nervously could be heard through the earpiece.

"Scott, you are heading to foyer room. Luis, you are in retail space. My guess is that girl is in private office, which is on Scott's right. Be careful, though. I could be wrong."

"Gotcha," came his soft reply. There was the sound of a small scuffle as Scott most likely took someone out, and just after a slight yell erupted behind him.

“What was that?” Dave asked, peering around himself for trouble. “What happened in there?”

“Yaaaaaaaghhh!” Luis suddenly called out. A string of curses came from Scott. 

“What?” Kurt demanded.

“They knew we were coming! It was a trap!”

“What?” Dave shifted around on the ground as Kurt tried to find access to heat signatures in the warehouse. If it was a trap, it’d be good to know how many people they were up against.

“We need to get the girl and get out! Luis! You good?”

“Ugh. Man, I’ma throw up. Prolly got a concussion or something. More might be coming my way, I dunno, like, I can’t see anything anymore we took out those lights for nothing now that my night vision isn’t—”

“Luis, shut up,” said Kurt. “They find you when you keep talking.” He typed in some more information, shifting his footing as the map of the warehouse changed. Bingo: heat signatures. “There are about thirty people in building. You need to move quickly.”

“Thirty? That’s nothing,” Scott assured. “Kurt—you said she was probably in the office? How many are in there?”

He examined it. “Six. One could be girl.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Dave added rather unhelpfully. “Move fast. I think some more are comin’.”

More people? Kurt lifted his head for a moment to spot a pair of cars careening there way. He cursed under his breath. “Dave is right.”

“No shit!” Dave shot back.

“Son. Of. A. Bitch.”

“Scott?”

“It’s the parents. They’re here in the room. I don’t think they see me, but this—they were in on it, guys. They set us up.”

Gunshots erupted inside the building.

“They found me!” called Luis. “I wanna turn small I wanna turn—”

“Luis? Luis!” yelled Dave.

“His comms are out,” Kurt said, now frantically trying to see which blotch of red was Luis. Was he hurt?

Something rammed into one of the telephone poles. The force of the blow knocked Kurt’s laptop right out of his hands and sent it crashing to the floor.

The car started honking in a panic alarm. So that was the cause.

“Hurry up!” Dave yelled. “Get Luis out of there!”

“I’m _trying_ , asshole!”

“Then try harder!”

Kurt bit down on his lip and adjusted his hold on the post. It was beginning to sway, but for now, that wasn’t his main concern.

The wires around him buzzed and sparked with vehement electricity, screaming out to him in warning. He crouched down on the T-section of the telephone pole, feeling far too much like the cat Scott had to save from the tree. He gripped even more tightly as one of the wires began seizing, warping itself uncontrollably with the ominous hum of pain. The situation was stupid dangerous. 

Then there was a sharp ringing within his ear, pounding its way through his skull so aggressively that he yelped and almost fell from his perch. Kurt dug the offending device from his ear and examined with no small amount of impatience that it had been fried. He threw the useless object to the ground before returning that hand back to the pole. 

There had been so many ways that the plan of rescuing the girl could go wrong. This happened to be one of them. Yet even in the thrill of the peril, Kurt was concerned for his life and the life of the oblivious man standing on the ground below him, too busy picking a fight with one of his own partners in crime to notice the obvious hazard above.

"Dave!" he called out from above. His foot slipped and he momentarily felt his heart rise to his throat. "D-Dave!" It was, unfortunately, to no avail. 

It was difficult to hear over the rumbling wind, but Dave was loud enough for Kurt to interpret many of the words.

"You have to hurry, dumbass! I... before she's out, and you're gonna... your stupid plan, and now Luis is... just get out! You're being an idiot, man! The hell is wrong with you? I would've been in an' out of this joint in... Crap. I've got some more comp'ny outside. Three with guns, man; you need to get out here fast... Of course I have the taser!"

Shortly after that last statement, Kurt saw Dave duck behind a large, dark trashcan. He managed to pull his leg back onto the slab of wood beneath him and dropped into a crouch. There was no doubt in his mind that the men had already seen him at the top of the telephone pole; it was just a matter of time as to when Dave finally pulled himself together.

_ZING!_

One of the men dropped to the ground shortly after the force of an invisible blow to his shoulder brought him down. His remaining comrades shouted in surprise before flattening themselves against the building.

Dave whooped. "Take that! One man's down, Scott, but there's still two more. You gotta hurry outside. Yeah, I know that it sucks we were set up. But that family was a great little acting duo and you need to get over yourself and find a way out. Well then tell Luis..."

The rest of Dave's one-sided conversion fell deaf to Kurt's ears as a round of bullets sprayed out around him, one of which hit the transformer below him. The result was a shower of sparks, some of them landing on Kurt's clothing only to fizzle and die before any damage could actually be done. Kurt sighed in relief once the assault of bullets stopped.

"Hold on, man, they're doin' somethin' out here and I need to—Shit! Kurt!"

Dave leaned out of his hiding place to try to see if any of the men were within tazing distance before retreating. "You okay up there? Oh my God, that can't be good... Scott, I swear to God! If Kurt gets shot, you'll get shot, too!... Why? Because you're too slow and need to take out these last two idiots... Stop blaming that on me and hurry up! How many times do I have to tell you?... Of course I don't know that!"

Kurt peered from around the vertical wooden pole to get a better look at the man Dave had taken down. He had pulled himself away from the action and was in the process of reloading. "Dave," said Kurt, far too quietly, "he's—"

There was the sound of shattering glass below him, causing everyone's attention to turn to the smashed window and see... nothing. Kurt smiled. It looked like Scott had finally shown up.

One man's knees buckled beneath before his head was slammed into the pavement. He staggered back onto his feet, angrily looking around to spot no one and turned to look at his partner.

His partner had decided to run back to where the second truck still waited. That was when Luis emerged, tackling that man to the ground as Scott turned full-size to effectively knock out the other one. 

"Whew!" said Scott. "That was—"

Kurt didn't hear the last part. An explosion of pain lit up in his shoulder—no, chest—no, _everywhere_ , and he felt his grip loosen abruptly. His back seemed to fall first— _was I shot in the chest?_ —and his feet came soon after. Then the ground approached ever closer, and _oh, God, it's right there_ he hit the ground.

Everything was numb. His body, even his brain felt somehow suspended in time. He stared ahead and felt his head slide slightly across the ground as he tried to lift it, but his neck was lead. No wait, his neck isn't made of lead. That wouldn't make sense. But it felt like lead. Didn't it? 

A battered sigh slipped through his lips as he gazed into the midnight sky, head pounding and eyes blinded by the glare of the light just above him. But it's night. There's no light in the night. But… Kurt's eyes blinked slowly. "Eto rifmuyetsya," said a voice in the distance. Wait. No, that was a thought. Was it a thought?

"The hell?" A voice seeped through the soundless drumming within his ears. "I thought dropping out of the sky was my thing."

Things started to come back to him. He'd been shot. He fell forty feet from a telephone pole. Scott was complaining that Kurt had stolen his "thing." Everything was numb, but he was alive. Maybe not for much longer.

Kurt breathed in a rough sigh as the sound of footsteps pounding against the pavement reached his ears. People were jogging over. Kurt took in another guttural sigh. The pain had to come at some point. He was alive, he'd been shot, he fell forty feet, he was awake, there _had_ to be pain.

When it finally came, Kurt decided that death would have been the better option.

There was a sound, something animal-like, and it took Kurt a long time to realize that was him. Somebody was grabbing his shoulders, but oh, God, it _hurt_. It all hurt. All he could see was white, and all he could hear was himself, no longer screaming— _that sound was screaming? Had he ever screamed before?_ —but muttering words in some language he himself didn't recognize, and the panicked voice of someone attempting to say it was okay when it was very obvious that it would _not_ be okay.

He felt his body being lifted and carried away yet found himself incapable of telling those people to _please, stop—it hurts._ The voice was in his ear again, telling him it'd be okay, it'd be okay, it'd be okay, but the darkness was rushing from the corners of his vision, threatening to swallow him whole.

He didn't fight it.

The darkness took away his pain.

 

"...And was the only one seriously affected after this. I can't believe you didn't tell me about this ahead of time. You let your guard down and got lucky, Scott. Lucky. He wasn't."

"I know, Hope. That was completely my fault, and I blame myself for everything. It won't happen again. I swear."

Somebody sighed. "I was just worried about you. If something happened, I don't know what I… Don't you ever be that stupid again."

"Oh? Hold up a second. You were _worried_ about me? I mean, I knew you cared, but—"

"Shut up. I was only concerned because you're obviously still an idiot. Don't take it the wrong way."

"Y'know, as much as I think it's adorable that you two are good and all, because that's great, I mean, I thought she might kill you after what happened, man, but shouldn't we be worried about what he's thinking right now? 'Cause I don't know about you guys, but I'd be a little like "Whoa, what's going on," but that's just me. Actually, I'd probably still be pretty chill, but y'know, some things are just harder to take in than others and this might be one of those situations. Especially after that little fall out and maybe being insane because who knows what happens to the head after that because he was already a little different but now he's gotta be like _different_ different, if you get what I'm putting down because that sort of thing doesn't just heal it _festers_ and—"

"Luis, stop. Who are you talking about?"

"Kurt. See, he's awake, just like I was saying."

Footsteps padded over, quieter than the pounding from before. Kurt's eyes were open slightly, and he could just barely make out the blurry image of a man looming over and...

Kurt blinked and frowned. Was Scott seriously snapping his fingers his face?

"You are... serious right... now? I'm not dog, you ba... bastard."

"Dude, Kurt's pissy. I'm gonna go on ahead and not recommend that you be stepping on his tail. Get it? Tail? 'Cause he just said he wasn't a—"

Hope cleared her throat. Kurt blinked once more in an attempt to clear his vision further and saw her standing behind Scott with her arms crossed and posture very, _very_ straight. "Somebody needs to let Dave know he's awake. Before he... you know." She waved a hand that must have carried lots of more information with it, as both Luis and Scott made unidentifiable expressions and sucked air in through their teeth. Kurt decided to blow it off as some American exchange that he'd never understand.

"I'll do it," said Luis after a moment. "Scotty and Hope here will explain everything." He gave Kurt's shoulder a rough pat, which actually turned out to be painful, and left.

There was a brief silence. 

"Ow," said Kurt.

Scott grimaced. "Yeah. About that. Uh, well; you're not dead, so that's good. But we had to wrap up your ribs because you broke... how many?"

"Six," said Hope.

"Yeah, six ribs. One ended up puncturing your lung, which definitely wasn't good, but it was taken care of. Right, Hope?"

"Right."

Kurt attempted to take a deep breath to test whether or not Scott was telling the truth, but it came out in a shutter and provoked a flicker of pain in his chest.

"Don't take deep breaths, though. You haven't recovered enough for that."

"Am I," began Kurt. He moved one of his hands in front of his face, only to find that the motion caused his limbs to feel like helium, "on drugs or something?" He was fairly certain that "something" came out like "sumsing," but Scott appeared to understand.

"Oh, yeah. Strong ones. I mean... well... yes, you are. And your head is also wrapped up because you may or may not have fractured your skull and gotten a little concussion. Head wounds bleed a _lot_."

"Scott," came Hope's voice with the biting edge of warning.

"Moving along! You landed mostly on your back-shoulder-head-whatever, so that wasn't the best of things that could have happened. You got lucky that your head didn't completely cave in and kill you, but you might end up having some... after effects."

That didn't sound good. "After effects?"

Scott paused before dragging over a chair, scraping it along the wooden surface of the floor until it reached the surface Kurt was resting on.

"You'll, uh... well, you landed on your back from forty feet in the air. Bad idea, by the way, climbing up there without a ladder or harness. So—“

"I am pretty sure that... getting shot and having... car screw with electrical wires... was inevitable, but carry on."

"Oh, yes, getting shot. Two of the bullets went through-and-through, but one got lodged in some bone. It was taken out, so don't worry."

Hope cleared her throat once more and looked pointedly at Scott, who sighed. 

"You... um. Back injuries can a lot of times end up leaving people... permanently paralyzed."

Kurt's eyes widened, and Hope immediately stepped in. "Take slow breaths. We don't want you to be hyperventilating. That can damage your ribs or lung even more. Slow breaths are better than that. Just calm down, can you do that?"

Kurt nodded and continued with his attempts to breathe, working through the acute pain it caused in his chest.

It was some time later when Scott decided he was ready to continue speaking. "It's not going to be permanent. We know that much. But as to how long it'll take before you're fully recovered.... But, I mean, you can move your head and arms, which is definitely a good sign. Just keep practicing with your legs, and you'll recover faster. That's what Dr. Pym said."

The random use of Hank Pym's official title was a somewhat poor attempt to lessen the sting of the newfound knowledge that, yes, Kurt was temporarily paralyzed.

Kurt found that a more appropriate explanation to his particular situation was "a living hell."

"Kurt," said Hope, "my dad is going to do everything in his power to help you. He already has a few ideas. You'll be back to running around in no time. Like Scott said, just keep trying to moving and let your body start to get used to it. Physical therapy can—will allow you to recover."

"How long was I out?"

Scott leaned back in his chair. "About—"

"Kurt!"

He managed to turn his head enough to spot Dave running through the doorway with an expression that Kurt couldn't read across his face. Relief? Anxiety? Fear? But there was something else, Kurt was sure.

"Oh, thank God. I thought you were dead, man. Don't you dare do that to me again, you got that? Oh, my God. There had been so much blood, I thought... How are you feelin'?"

Dave had managed to scrounge up another chair from within the room and set it next to Kurt, opposite of Scott. He was leaning VERY far forward in his chair, almost to the point of causing it to tip over, but Kurt was more involved with the fact that Dave had his face quite close to his own. He tried to swallow down the blush that was no doubt spreading across his cheeks. _Americans are so... comfortable in invading personal space. I'm simply not accustomed to it. That's all._

"I..." Kurt sputtered, "am as good as... can be expected for someone wh—who just found... that I will hav—be partly paralyzed. And I'm on drugs."

Dave let out a quick laugh, and Kurt could feel the hot air it released across his face before Dave leaned back. "Yeah, those drugs must be somethin'. My shin's better by the way."

Kurt blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"You kicked me a while back. Might not remember it right now 'cause of your concussion. Ever played soccer?"

"I… no?" The heat had definitely spread to his ears.

Scott must have taken some notice of the redness on Kurt's face, if the snort meant anything. 

Kurt would have turned his face to shoot a glare if he hadn't become so fixated on Dave's lips as he smirked. "I, uh... these drugs... they are strong, yes?"

Luis laughed from somewhere in the room. "They're strong but not _that_ strong."

"What do you mean by _that_ strong?"

Hope cleared her throat and moved to stand next to Scott's chair. "Hey, Kurt. You should probably try and get some rest. You took in a lot of information in a short amount of time. Your brain will probably need some time to sort through it all, especially with the head injury." Kurt had turned his head to face her. She was right. His vision was getting cloudy and he was thinking... weird things. Specifically about Dave. But he was drugged, he was tired, and he had a concussion.

‘Tak vint menya,’ Kurt thought. Or maybe he said it. Based on Hope's confused expression, he probably did say it, and probably in Russian. 

A small, sympathetic smile turned the sides of Hope's lips up. "Just get some sleep."

And just like that, the darkness claimed him again.

 

Scott happened to be sitting in the room, reading news in the tablet somewhat absentmindedly, when Kurt woke up again. He saw the other man's eyes open slowly and blearily blink away the sleep. Scott threw the tablet onto a nightstand and tilted his head.

"Hey, man. Glad to see that you're awake. How are you feeling?" Kurt turned his head to look at Scott. Scott frowned. "Are you alright?" he asked.

His eyes were darting, studying Scott's features. He had a lost expression before saying, "Chto vy skazali? Ya ne mogu ponyat' vas."

Scott blinked. "What?"

Kurt gave Scott a suspicious look. "Kto ty?"

"I have no idea what you're saying."

Scott examined the younger man as he started to look around more frantically, taking quick breaths just like Hope had advised him not to do. Scott stood up and walked over to him. "Look, Kurt, you need to calm down, okay? We don't want you injuring your ribs or lungs."

Scott's valiant attempt to calm him down only led to him panicking more. Then he tried to stand up. 

"Tried" being the key word.

Kurt's eyes were wide with panic as he attempted to swing his legs off the side of the bed. He had barely managed to get the top of his body up, supported with his arms behind him. "Chto so mnoy ne tak?" He looked up at Scott, his eyes definitely not registering the man standing in front of him. 

Scott didn't exactly know what to do. He attempted to stay calm, even as he could hear the blood thrumming through his veins as his heart pounded. "You have to calm down and sit back, Kurt. I swear that everything will be okay." He stepped closer, as if approaching a wild animal. "You have to lean back; I don't want you to hurt yourself." He gently placed his hands on each of Kurt's shoulders in an attempt to get him back down, only to get what could only be described as a yelp by Kurt in response.

"Otstan' ot menya!" He tried to thrash away from Scott, causing him to jump backwards. Moments later, Hope burst through the door followed shortly by Dave and Luis.

"What happened?" she asked, moving to stand by Scott.

Her voice was authoritative. Scott pointed to Kurt, who was looking amongst the three men like they were predatory birds and he was a mouse with broken legs. "He doesn't recognize me, and I'm pretty sure he's talking at me in Russian. He keeps trying get up."

Dave bit his lower lip and looked over at Hope. "You don't happen to speak Russian, by any chance?"

"Privet!" Luis suddenly yelled.

Kurt raised an eyebrow as Luis fist pumped the air in triumph.

"What did you just say?" Scott asked.

"It means hi. Kurt taught it to me a while ago. High-five!"

Dave high-fived him.

"So you said hey to him and what? What did you gain from that?"

Defeated, Luis' smile faded a little.

"Privet," Kurt responded, the faintest of all grins ghosting his lips. "Euh," he rubbed the back of his head, but the movement was slow, as though detained by molasses, "English?"

The four other people in the room nodded.

"American?"

Again, they nodded.

Kurt sighed and fell back into his pillow. "Bozhe, pomogi mne," he muttered.

Moments later, he was asleep once more.

 

The next time Kurt awoke, Hank Pym was sitting on the edge of the bed. His head felt clearer somehow; he vaguely remembered Luis saying hi to him earlier, but not much else. "Myedyk," he muttered, blinking. 

"Hello, Kurt." 

His face seemed kinder? Maybe.

"I need to help you. Is that okay?"

Kurt nodded. From the low tone, this would hurt. A lot.

They progressed forward, Hank messing with Kurt's legs to see if he could feel anything (no) and so Hank started moving Kurt's legs for him to get the neurons or something moving. It was hard for Kurt to follow. Hank tried to help him stand at one point, but it's hard to stand on things that don't seem to really be there.

As soon as Hank's support left, Kurt collapsed to the ground, slamming down onto the hardwood. He narrowly avoided hitting his head when Hank quickly caught him by his neck. "Not quite ready for that," said Hank calmly as Kurt struggled for a breath of air.

By the end of the physical therapy, Kurt was sweating. Hank was holding Kurt's knee—he only noticed because he spotted the older man's hand resting there. "You're doing pretty well," said Hank. "I'm not sure you'll remember this, but... I'm sorry."

As Kurt drifted off, he began to wonder if he'd imagined it.

 

Kurt woke up later. He wasn't sure when it was, but he did know something hurt. A lot. It reminded him of his time in Russia, and he winced. Good days there didn't occur often.

"Kurt. You're up."

He blinked. Kurt had noticed this. 

"Glad to see you've got some attitude this time."

Oh. He'd said that out loud. Who was it, anyway? He rolled over—only his top half moved, and he wanted to yell in frustration. Instead he clamped his mouth shut and squinted. Dave was in the chair, elbows on his knees and chin resting in the palms of his hands. He was right up next to the bed. Kurt smiled wanly. "Hello, Dave."

Dave smiled back at him, and his stomach curled a bit at the sliver of teeth. "Those drugs feelin' good?"

Kurt attempted to shrug. "It hurts. But..." But what? "Thank you." That wasn't quite what he wanted to say. 

Dave's eyebrows furrowed, and it was... cute, actually. "For what?"

Kurt blinked slowly. The drugs weren't quite helping with the pain, but it did help keep his mind foggy with bliss, pushing away the terror that came with paralysis. _Temporary_ paralysis. "Being here."

Dave huffed in laughter. "Wouldn't do it for nobody else, kiddo," he responded, clapping a hand on Kurt's shoulder. All of his focus went to that singular touch. "How you feelin'? And be honest."

Kurt grinned and winked. "Better."

Dave lifted an eyebrow. "And different. The hell are you on?"

"Nothing good enough." Kurt shifted his upper half, making an attempt lean up. The dead weight of his legs wasn't really helping.

Apparently Dave grew bored of Kurt's suffering and stood up to help him lean against the bed frame. Once he was up, Dave plopped onto the bed next to him. "Look, Kurt," he began, looking down at his hands, "I'm sorry about everything. You getting hurt... that's on me. I shouldn't... I shouldn't have started a fight with Scott, and I definitely should've been paying more attention to you. I'm just really sorry man." Then he looked up at Kurt with big, sad eyes. Honesty. People were rarely honest these days. "I totally understand if you can't forgive me, but I had to try."

He was beginning to get tired again—really tired. He wouldn't last much longer, but he needed to take the hurt from Dave's face. Seeing him like that... it broke him, somehow.

And then, because to hell with it, and he was on drugs anyway, Kurt leaned forward so his forehead was pressed against his friend's, knowing that he was being stupid and too drugged up to be logical. "I forgive you." And as he felt Dave's deep intake of relief, Kurt leaned even further, pressing his lips against the other man's as darkness blurred the edges of his vision. And damn everything, those lips tasted brilliant like honey and he smelled like burning car exhaust and somehow so, so nice, but Dave's whole frame stiffened and he started to pull back, but before Kurt could say anything, that darkness made him blind.

 

He woke up shirtless. As soon as Kurt noticed this, he paled before he saw Hank standing over him. "I'm just checking the state of your ribs," said Hank as he pressed his thumb against him. Kurt remained silent. Had... had he _seriously_ kissed Dave? Was that a dream? Kurt didn't even know if he... if he liked other men. He swallowed. It had to be a dream. That had to be it.

Hank cleared his throat. "Did something happen between you and Dave? He's been acting oddly, and none of us have figured out why." He stopped to look at Kurt, his cunning eyes searching the man's face as he undoubtedly paled further. 

"I—euh—I am not—I am not sure." And that sounded just as confident as he felt.

Hank, thankfully, only hummed in response.

\----------

Kurt stayed awake for a while after Hank left, and soon enough, Scott wandered in. "Hey, Kurt. Sorry I haven't stopped by sooner, I was taking care of that whole little girl case thing. How are you feeling?"

Scott saw that Kurt was in a pissy mood immediately. At the question, his eyes narrowed and flashed. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was a bit more than a hacker. "I am paralyzed. How do you think?"

"Sorry, I—sorry. Y'know, Hank did tell me he thought you might recover pretty good."

Kurt sighed. "Pretty _well_."

Scott blinked. "What?"

"Grammar problem."

Scott crossed his arms and smiled, falling gracelessly into the chair. "Says the guy who doesn't even speak English fluently. I mean, c'mon. You leave off "a" and "the" all the time."

Kurt tilted his head. "Ty idyot."

"Rude," said Scott.

"Hey, guys! How you doin'?"

Scott jumped right and proper at Luis' sudden shouting. "Hey, hey. We're all right."

Luis was grinning ear to ear as his gaze turned to Kurt. "Bro, you gotta tell me what you did to Dave, man. He's all, like, wired up and avoiding everyone. It's so weird."

Scott frowned. "What do you mean? And how do you know it's Kurt's fault?"

Luis acted as though he hadn't heard a thing. Instead his eyes lit up. "Dude! You totally kissed him, didn't you!"

Scott had never seen anyone turn so red so fast in his life. To be fair, everyone but Dave and Kurt seemed aware of Kurt's apparent crush. From lingering glances to unnecessary touches, it was obvious.

"I—I don't know v—what you are talking avout,” Kurt replied hoarsely, burrowing his chin into his neck.

“Dude,” said Luis, his smile fading, “I thought for sure I was onto something.”

Scott punched him in the shoulder and faced Kurt. “Look, Kurt, the first thing you gotta know is that your accent gets a hundred times thicker when you lie. Second, your face is super, super red.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes.

“We’re not gonna judge you, buddy. I mean,” Scott shared a look with Luis, “it’s kinda been obvious you have a thing for him.”

Kurt pulled a hand to his head, drawing it back at the feel of the bandages. He… he wanted to deny it. Everything in him wanted to. He grew up being made to believe as much.

Instead, he didn’t say anything.

Luis leaned closer to Scott. “Dude,” he whispered, his voice still loud enough for Kurt to hear, “he isn’t saying anything. You don’t think he’ll kill us, do you?”

Scott swatted him away when he spotted Kurt’s eye twitch.

Then he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

Scott winced then turned around. Dave stood there, hands in his pockets, slouched over. “Hey,” he said nonchalantly.

Scott looked back at Kurt, who seemed to be fading into the bed, then back to Dave. “Heyyy, Dave. Purely out of curiosity, how long have you been standing there?”

Dave lifted his eyebrows. “Just showed up. Why?”

“Nothing! Nothing.”

Dave cleared his throat again. “Do you mind, uh, giving me a sec with him? Alone?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Knock yourself out. C’mon Luis.” Scott gripped Luis’ arm and hauled him from the room, shutting the door (most of the way) behind him.

Dave sighed as he trudged to a chair and plopped down into it. For a moment, he said nothing. Neither did Kurt, who was busy looking at his hands.

“Kurt,” Dave began softly, and Kurt flinched a bit, barely avoiding looking up to Dave’s face. “I guess you, uh… ya remember what you did.”

Kurt bit down on his lower lip. Normally in a situation like this, he’d start bouncing his knee. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” Dave continued. “I just…” He groaned and sheepishly put his face in his hands. “I dunno what to say, dude. I really don’t. I mean, you kissed me.” He picked his head up at this, watching, a tad remorsefully, as Kurt closed his eyes. “I’m just… I’m straight, Kurt. Hell, I had no idea you were gay ‘til—”

“I don’t know if I am,” Kurt interrupted, his voice low. “I…” He opened his eyes, meeting Dave’s for a half-second, “I was very drugged. I don’t…”

Except he probably did know. Whether or not he accepted it, he had been crushing on Dave for quite a while. Luis and Scott noticed as much. The drugs may have moved him along, but the feelings were there.

“Look, Kurt, I care for you a lot. As a friend. You know I’ll be there to support you no matter what, but I think you need to figure this thing out. Actually, you got a lot to figure out right now. I’m really sorry, man, but…”

“I know,” Kurt said, looking up at Dave with a hesitant smile. “You are straight. I… may not be. But for now, I am also paralyzed. I, euh,” he scratched behind his ear, “What is it you say? I must get my priorities straight?”

“That’s the one.” Dave leaned back in his chair. “I hope there’s no hard feelings ‘tween us.”

Kurt shook his head. “Nyet. And sorry for… for kissing you.”

“We’re good, man. No worries. If that’s what it took to help you start figuring things out, all the better, I guess.” He shrugged. 

Kurt snuffed.

Then the door opened as Luis and Scott literally fell in, both stringing out curses as they collapsed on one another. 

“Um,” said Scott,” lifting his head, “we totally weren’t eavesdropping.”

Kurt grabbed the plate off the bedside table and flung it at Scott. It broke against his head.

“Some of a fucking mother _fucker_ you Russian _bastard_ \--” he scrambled off Luis, who released a series of pained grunts in the process. Then, with far less care than he should’ve, he jumped at Dave, tackling him all the way across the bed and onto the floor on the other side.

“I-- _OW!_ \-- didn't do anything!” Dave cried out.

“Well, suck it up, princess!” Scott yelled as he pummeled Dave.

Dave retaliated by going for Scott’s armpits, which immediately had him laughing and rolling around the floor. “I’ll kill you!” he called between fits! “I-- I said I’ll k-- _HAHAHAHAH_ \--!”

Kurt looked across the room to meet Luis’ gaze, who was still also on the floor. “Ten bucks Dave wins,” he said.

Luis smiled blithely. “You’re on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lol.  
> The way I treat a forty-foot fall and three gunshot wounds is like applying a band-aid to a cannonball wound.  
> (aka ur already dead but we stil luv u)  
> Don't try that at home, kids.
> 
> If you have any requests for long-shots, I mean one-shots, shoot. I don't make any guarantees that I'll actually write them (so sorry) due to my procrastination problem. But if I do like your idea I promise that I'll work hard to complete it. So ask away. :)
> 
> Reviews are always welcome. I appreciate any criticism on my writing, characterization, etc.


End file.
